


Mine

by Frenchibi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A lot of angst and pain, College AU, Cry with me, I guess there's mention of alcohol, I'm Sorry, M/M, and crying, and pain meds, they'll get a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5564494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frenchibi/pseuds/Frenchibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa and Iwa-chan went to different universities and they don't know how to live life without each other. Something's gotta change.<br/>There's a lot of angst and pain and generall crappiness in the beginning. I'm sorry, I love to suffer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to the PAIN TRAIN!  
> Wait, another IwaOi fic? Don't I have two unfinished ones as-is?  
> Yes, yes I do.  
> And I'm trash. This one is centered (for the most part) on Oikawa, and it's full of angst. I might actually make this longer, maybe.  
> I'm sorry.

It’s been almost three months.

Almost an entire season has passed since Oikawa last saw his best friend.

He's sitting on the couch in his small apartment, his back to the door and the small kitchen, absent-mindedly tapping his fingers against the brace on his right knee. There is a sports channel running on the small TV, but he’s not really paying attention. Instead, his mind wanders – as it does a lot these days – back to what he now calls “better times.” The best times of his life, probably, if he’s honest. A tight-knit team he could trust, at a school he enjoyed going to (despite his constant whining) and, most importantly, the unwavering presence of his rock, his pillar, the one who kept him sane.

Now, Oikawa feels like a feather tossed into the wind, tied to nothing and fluttering around aimlessly, afraid to get caught up in anything tumultuous for fear of losing control.

He’s realized long ago that he is nothing without Iwa-chan.

He reaches for his phone, lying silently beside him, and flips it open. The screen is blank, and a small red light blinks dully at him to remind him to recharge the battery.

It’s been like this for a couple of days, Oikawa just hasn’t had the motivation to plug it in. What’s the point, even?

It’s not like Iwaizumi is going to text him.

And it’s not like anyone else’s texts matter. He’s socializing all right – during classes, breaks, time spent on campus. But no more than he needs to. He still gets girls’ phone numbers way too easily, but he rarely ever actually texts them. Because what’s the point?

He seems to be thinking that a lot, lately. _What’s the point_. He’s not sure he knows anymore.

He’s practicing harder than ever, because of course this new, national level university team is extremely hard to get into but even harder to maintain once you’re actually in – a fact he had always speculated but never actually taken two seconds to think about. And now he’s living it, exhaustion and all.

Still, exhaustion is better than boredom – boredom leaves doors wide open for the thoughts Oikawa really doesn’t want and can’t face. Not like this. Not now. Not alone.

So he pushes, and he pushes, and he keeps them at arm’s length, just far enough out of his reach for them to vaguely unsettle him on bad days and oddly motivate him on the better ones.

Better days are getting fewer and fewer.

He knows he’s reaching his limits. Classes are tough, but interesting enough – it’s just hard to focus through constant exhaustion. Practice is tough, but challenging – and he knows he’s pushing too hard.

When he returns to this too-big empty apartment that is now his home (could he ever call it that?), he plunges himself into studying until he falls asleep. On days that he doesn’t, one or two glasses of something or other usually help. The headaches that follow these nights he takes as punishment for slacking.

It’s sick, but it’s working. For now. Although he can’t deny that control is slipping from his fingers. It’s only a matter of time.

Three months, and he’s practically broken.

He has no idea how he’s going to survive three years.

~~~

He sighs and gets to his feet, dropping his dead phone back onto the couch. He blinks against the tiredness of his weary eyes and turns to switch off the TV. Then he sighs again and slowly moves towards the bathroom, killing the lights on his way into the hall. He almost trips over his volleyball bag, which he dropped carelessly in front of the bathroom door earlier that day, in an effort to remind himself to wash his uniform. He rubs a hand over his eyes, moaning softly. Of course he’d forgotten about that.

He stands there for a second, almost lost, staring down at the bag. Then he decides that his uniform can stand one more day of practice – it’ll never be dry by morning, anyway. He thinks for a second about his spare clothes, but he hasn’t needed them yet and they’re at the bottom of a box that he really thinks he’s not ready to open. A box that might still… smell like Iwaizumi, because he helped him pack it.

He knows he’s being ridiculous, but he can’t do this. He’s not going to force himself.

He shoves the bag aside with his foot and goes to brush his teeth and take his meds.

An exhausted face blinks back at him from the mirror. All day he spends smiling like nothing is wrong, and every night the muscles on his face hurt from it. All day he pressures his knee like nothing’s wrong, and every night he takes pills for the pain that stops him from sleeping. It’s a working system, albeit one that’s deteriorating, failure slowly closing in.

He’s just so tired.

He reaches for the small box with his pain medication, and realizes it’s way too light. With a groan, he remembers the small post-it note that he put next to the door just a couple of days ago, reminding himself to get another prescription.

So much for that.

He exhales in a long sigh, then makes his way to the large empty bed in the room across the hall. He doesn't bother to undress, simply pulls the covers up over himself. _What's the damn point?_

Maybe tomorrow he’ll charge his phone, call his parents – but just thinking about it makes him pretty sure he won’t.

_He’s just. So. Tired._

~~~

He’s not quite sure why he wakes, but he knows immediately that there is another person in the room with him. Which makes no sense, even to his tired brain, which is frantically trying to put a time and a place on the sensation of his existence, slightly overwhelmed by the sudden stream of consciousness.

He turns around, and light from the living room hits him in the face through the door that’s been cracked open. He holds up his hand to shield his eyes as they adjust, and the dark silhouette of the intruder starts to take form.

Oikawa blinks, and then he forgets to breathe.

Because it can’t be.

It _can’t be_.

The intruder pushes the door open a little wider and slides into the room, peering down at the bed.

This can’t be a dream, because his knee is throbbing and his headache is definitely real, and he can smell yesterday’s clothes and sweat on his own body. There are too many sensations for this to be a dream.

And yet, Oikawa finds it almost impossible to believe what he is seeing.

“…I still had the spare key,” a voice says, soft and subdued, trying hard not to disrupt the night around them. “Sorry for waking you.”

That voice. His voice.

Oikawa would know it anywhere. He’s heard it whisper and scream and laugh and cry, he knows it like his own.

“…I-Iwa-chan?”


	2. Chapter 2

Iwaizumi is pretty sure he has never felt so relieved in his entire life when Oikawa rushes forward and embraces him.

This reunion could have gone all kinds of wrong, or awkward, or emotionally challenging, not to mention annoying – but to his immense relief, it didn’t. It took a whole different turn.

“Iwa… Iwa-chan…”

Oikawa’s strangled whisper reaches Iwaizumi’s ears as he leans in closer, putting his arms around the setter. His nose fills with Oikawa’s scent, and inadvertently he inhales all of it. It smells like home. He would never admit how much he’s missed this.

Then again, he’s here now, which proves just how much he needed to see him. It was the middle of the night, for crying out loud.

“Iwa-ch-chan… Iwa-chan… Iwa…Iwa-chan…”

Oikawa is blubbering; Iwaizumi didn’t even notice him bursting into tears. He is unfazed, though, and simply tightens his grip, pulling Oikawa’s head to his chest and burying it there, as close as they can get. The setter is actually shaking, his hands curled into fists over the back of Iwaizumi’s shirt.

Iwaizumi waits for him to calm down, running his hand up and down his back in soothing motions – but that only seems to be making it worse. Oikawa is bawling like a child, clinging to him like there is no tomorrow.

“Iwa-chan… Iwa-chan…”

Iwaizumi presses his lips to Oikawa’s hair briefly before running his fingers through it, relishing the feeling of the soft curls. “I know. I’ve… I’ve missed you, too.”

It’s almost too quiet, but he’s pretty sure Oikawa hears, because his breath hitches on his next sob and he gasps into a fresh wave of crying.

~~~

All he can seem to say is his name, even though there is so much more he wants to ask, to say, to tell.

How did he get here?

How did he know to arrive just when Oikawa thought he couldn’t take it anymore? Just when his loneliness was getting the better of him, just before he could make any more stupid decisions, his anchor had reappeared. Why? How? For how long?

He’s afraid he won’t be able to let him go anymore – if Iwaizumi leaves him again, he might crush Oikawa’s heart for good. There’s only so much he can take, and he’s barely felt alive for the last three months.

Iwaizumi’s fingers gently comb through Oikawa’s hair, his other hand brushes over the setter’s back like he does this every day.

Well, he did. Back then.

It’s almost like nothing has changed. Like all the pain, the fear, the loneliness wasn’t real. It already feels fainter, like it’s fading, becoming obsolete, being replaced by the loop in his brain screaming _Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan_ and _I’m home_ – because that’s it, really, that’s what he makes him feel. Like he’s finally home. Like he’s not a stranger, passing by strange people, some of whom smile in what could be compassion, others with contempt, pride, awe – distance. Iwaizumi is the only one who doesn’t put any distance between himself and Oikawa.

Maybe that’s why he loves him.

And if he’s been trying to deny it up until then, he definitely can’t now.

It’s clearer than anything else, irrevocable, all-encompassing. And it’s everywhere. It’s in the way Iwaizumi’s hands soothe him just by being there, in the way the spot on his temple that he kissed burns like it’s on fire, the way Oikawa’s own heart seems to synchronize with the beating of the other. It’s in the way their breaths seem to tangle together like Oikawa’s fingers in his shirt, in the soft sigh that escapes Iwaizumi’s lips as he pulls him in just a little tighter, just a little closer. It’s in the fact that he’s here, right now, even though he should be miles away. It’s running through his veins, sending sparks and warmth and an incredible amount of relief through his body.

And it’s in all the pain, the tears, the anxiety that’s leaving him. It’s in the fact that Iwaizumi makes all that fade away, everything that dominated the last three months of his life, gone, erased, repaired. And all it took was this one embrace, and those tiny little words, _I’ve missed_ _you_.

Oikawa wants to scream at him, wants to laugh and cry and talk for hours about how Iwaizumi is his savior, the one person who will always have power over him, his best friend, his soulmate, but so much more. He has no words, and he doesn’t know if Iwaizumi will understand if he tries to say it anyway. But right now he can’t, he couldn’t if he tried. He’s too full of everything this boy has given him, has spent more than half of his life giving him, even if he never knew it.

So he tightens his grip, buries his head in the other’s chest and chokes out the only words he knows that would come close to what he’s feeling, though they’re not remotely enough. They’re all he has, and they might break everything, but at this point, what isn’t broken? Why lie?

He’s got nothing left to lose without Iwaizumi. He’s never needed anyone except him.

“Iwa-chan… Iwa-chan, I love you…”

~~~

Iwaizumi exhales in what might be a sigh or an incredulous chuckle, or something in between. He cradles Oikawa’s head against his chest, fingers still combing through his hair, the other hand rubbing circles into his back. He leans forward a little, resting his head on top of the setter’s, and closes his eyes.

“I know,” he says quietly.

Oikawa freezes under him, the sobs subsided, tension seeping back in.

“Wh… what?”

He pulls back to stare at Iwaizumi in surprise, his eyes filled with tears and his face a complete mess.

“I know,” Iwaizumi repeats, with a small smile. “It’s… written all over your face. It’s always been.”

Even through his upset appearance, Oikawa manages to blush. “What… what do you mean-“

“Do you think I’m stupid? Shittykawa. I know you care about me. Like, a lot.”

Frustrated, Oikawa shakes his head. “You don’t get it. That’s… that’s not enough. I don’t just-“

But he stops, biting his lip, averting his eyes. Like he’s sure there’s nothing he can say to do it justice.

“You don’t have to explain. I… know. Why do you think I’m here?”

At this, Oikawa’s head snaps back up, his eyes suddenly alert even through the exhaustion and the tears.

And Iwaizumi knows he needs to hear this, probably more than he himself needs to say it. And he wants him to hear it. Wants him to believe he is just as brilliant, beautiful and awe-inspiring as the boy Iwaizumi’s been seeing all this time, the boy he fell in love with.

“It’s the same for me,” he says, careful to keep eye contact when his instinct is to turn away and smack the back of the setter’s head with some stupid remark. Like they always do.

But this is a turning point.

“It’s only been three months, but I… couldn’t go on without seeing you. We’ve never been apart for this long since we met. I… don’t know who I am without you.”

Oikawa’s eyes are wide and round, his jaw going slack. Iwaizumi clenches his fists over what he now realizes are the setter’s hands, fitting comfortably against his, pale against tanned even in the dim light. His long, white fingers look almost ghostly, ethereal.

“You didn’t answer your phone. I… I was sure you were going to do something stupid pretty soon, because I was already close to doing something just as stupid. So I decided to be reckless. I… needed to see you, because I had to know for sure.”

Oikawa waits, watching, his face betraying nothing but the smallest, tiniest glimmer of hope.

“And I know now. Because all the loneliness, the exhaustion, the annoyance I felt is gone now. You… save me, Oikawa. You always have. And you probably won’t believe me, but… to me, there’s no one even half as perfect as you. No one who could… who could ever replace you. I need you. Hell, I probably… I probably love you, too. But I feel like that’s not strong enough. It’s… it’s more than that. Isn’t that what you meant…?”

The setter manages a nod, small, tentative. Iwaizumi knows without him saying it that there’s a storm building up inside him.

He squeezes the setter’s fingers, then gently releases them.

“You should get some sleep. You have classes tomorrow, right?”

Oikawa looks like he wants to complain, but Iwaizumi shakes his head. “We’ll talk more in the morning, okay? I promise, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

He moves back towards the door, but Oikawa lunges forward and grabs his arm.

“Stay,” he whispers, small, broken. “Stay, please. Stay here.”

~~~

For some reason, the fear is back. Oikawa knows he’s gripping Iwaizumi’s hands too hard, but he can’t risk losing this now. He can’t risk this being a dream after all. He can’t.

“Iwa-chan… please,” he gasps, pleading, begging.

Iwaizumi frowns slightly. “I can sleep in the-“  
“Here,” Oikawa interrupts, pulling him back towards himself. “I need… I need you here, Iwa-chan, please-“

And he’s crying again. And suddenly, it’s all flooding back – the exhaustion, the loneliness, the fear.

“Don’t leave me-“

Iwaizumi’s arms are around him within seconds, enveloping him, shielding him, keeping him.

“Never,” he says, and he means it. He sounds like he means it. “You hear me, Tooru? Never.”

Hearing his first name twists his insides, and he realizes just how gone he is. How lost. How hopeless.

“Iwa-chan… Iwa- please, please…”

But Iwaizumi already knows. He already understands.

He’s gathering Oikawa up in his arms, his limbs curling in around him, never close enough. He pushes the covers aside and puts Oikawa down on the bed, leaving just enough room for him to kick off his shoes and slide in beside him, pulling the blanket up around them.

Oikawa immediately gravitates towards him, arms winding their way around him, legs tangling with his. He presses his face to Iwaizumi’s chest, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

“I know,” Iwaizumi whispers. “I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this was only supposed to be a 2-chapter thing but I had a couple more ideas I want to add into this - bear with me, alright? :D Not sure how long it'll get but I promise it'll be worth the wait :D  
> Thanks for reading, feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> Come cry with me on my [tumblr](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com) if you feel like it x'D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Sorry, it's been a minute - I was pretty sick for a while, didn't mean to have such huge gaps between updates D: But I'm back now (more or less), so I'll try and finish this up soon-ish. Thank you for your patience ^^

Oikawa wakes to the unpleasant sensation of fading warmth from accidentally uncovering his legs and back as he slept. He groans softly and kicks at the covers without opening his eyes, hoping to straighten them out enough to preserve their warmth a little longer – but then, as his brain slowly wakes and starts catching up, he freezes.

Tentatively, not daring to open his eyes, he extends an arm to the other side of the bed. His fingers tangle in the sheet, still warm. A feeling of immense dread slams into him, and his eyes fly open.

He’s alone.

He twists around to scan the rest of the room, almost throwing himself off the side of the bed with his momentum. It’s empty.

_No. You wouldn’t._

He ignores the dizziness that comes with moving too quickly too soon after waking up and disentangles himself from the covers, nearly tripping over discarded clothing as he stumbles out of bed. His room seems the same as always. But he’s sure he didn’t imagine it.

Iwaizumi was here. And if he’s not here now, that means-

_No, no, no. He promised. He wouldn’t-_

He's out the door, frantically darting across the narrow hallway.

He rounds the corner to the tiny kitchen, socks skidding on the ground, and slides to a stop.

Iwaizumi is standing with his back to him, at the stove, holding a pan. He turns when he hears movement behind him, and smiles in Oikawa’s general direction.

“You up?” he asks. “I made-“

But he stops when he sees Oikawa’s face. In less than a second he abandons the food and rushes to the setter’s side.

“Whoa- are you okay?”

Oikawa blinks, and realizes there are silent tears gently streaking his cheeks. He swears he’s not breathing, floored by the immediate, crushing relief because _he’s still here, he hasn’t left, he’s here_.

“Oikawa?”

Iwaizumi looks worried, his brow furrowed as he moves up close, his hands reaching for Oikawa’s shoulder, his cheek. Oikawa whimpers softly at the touch, remembering to draw breath, remembering that it’s okay, it’s okay, he’s not alone.

“Iwa-chan,” he whispers, catching his friend’s gaze, reaching for him. His fingers find fabric and he holds on, hands clenching into fists. “You… you were gone, and I… I couldn’t…”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen a little before he exhales, relieved. “Oh- I’m sorry, I should have woken you – but you didn’t look like you’d slept enough lately, so I thought…”

Oikawa looks down. His brain is finally catching up. “No, no – it’s okay, I was just scared you’d… you’d just left…”

Iwaizumi sighs exasperatedly, but the small smile doesn’t leave his face. “Even though I told you I wouldn’t.”

The setter nods. He realizes he’s being clingy, and slowly unclenches his fists, raising one hand to wipe away his tears.

“Sorry,” he says, “I’m… overreacting. Sorry.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and gently knocks his knuckles against Oikawa’s forehead. “Dumbass.”

Iwaizumi turns away, back to the pan he was holding earlier, and Oikawa’s just glad that he’s still here. But that raises a question, one that Oikawa is afraid to ask. So he says nothing and watches Iwaizumi set out two plates and fills them with scrambled eggs.

“It’s not much, but I had to work with what you had – you seriously need to stock up your fridge,” he says, shaking his head. “Also it’s high time you cleaned up around this place a little, don’t you think?”

“…Iwa-chan, are you my mom?”

He doesn’t think before he says it, it just sort of slips out. Iwaizumi doesn’t seem surprised, though. He purses his lips and says “Someone’s gotta take care of you, evidently.”

“I can manage just fine,” he says, while his mind screams _liar, liar, liar_.

Iwaizumi just raises his eyebrows at him. He glances towards the sofa, at where Oikawa’s dead phone still lies, abandoned.

“Have you called your parents lately?” he asks, almost too nonchalantly.

Oikawa considers the automatic answer, then changes his mind. “Y-… not really. They’re probably busy, I guess.”

Iwaizumi puts the pan back down on the stove a little too forcefully. Oikawa turns in surprise, only to find himself faced with a furrowed brow and clenched fists.

“They’re worried about you. Your mother called me, Oikawa.”

Oh.

Oikawa’s eyes widen, and he inadvertently backs away a little. “Eh? She’s always exaggera-“

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I know your mother, and she was genuinely scared. She knows as well as I do that you sometimes get this way, that you’re no good on your own, that you need people around you. And she was afraid something had happened because you weren’t answering your phone. For weeks.”

Several weeks? Oikawa had lost track of time. Days without meaning, he supposes. He feels a tiny twinge of guilt.

“I forgot to charge my phone,” he says absently.

Iwaizumi huffs at him. “You need to get your shit together. Don’t make your mother worry like that. It’s not much she’s asking, you know? Just a phone call now and then. She misses you, too.”

Somehow, Oikawa finds it difficult to look at him. He picks up one of the plates and turns to leave the kitchen.

“I’ll charge it after we eat, okay?”

But Iwaizumi sidesteps the counter and blocks the way. Oikawa is forced to look up at him, struck by the bulk of muscle that is his best friend.

“Charge it now.”

He blinks, and finds he can’t hold that determined gaze. “…okay.”

He feels Iwaizumi's eyes practically piercing the back of his skull as he moves around the sofa, sets down his plate, picks up his phone. He turns, his eyes sweeping the room - he really needs to clean up, huh - and locates his charger, in the socket next to the TV.

Oikawa plugs his phone in and it makes a small affirmative plopping noise to indicate the connection. Iwaizumi nods at him, evidently satisfied, before he picks up his own plate and moves to join him on the sofa.

"Good. Let's eat. God knows when the last time you had a proper meal was."

He says it almost like a joke, a quip, but Oikawa hears the underlying concern.

"You make me sound like I'm completely incapable of surviving on my own," he mutters, sitting down and reaching for his fork.

Iwaizumi ignores the comment, busying himself with his food.

Oikawa finds himself watching him from the corner of his eye, the slant of his nose, the arch of his eyebrows. Iwaizumi has always been handsome, in a down-to-earth, attainable sort of way, and Oikawa is entranced. Memories from the night before creep up on him and he looks away, probably a little too quickly. It’s still surreal to him, all of it, and Iwaizumi is behaving as though nothing has changed.

He’s so distracted he doesn’t hear that his friend is talking to him, barely registering movement until Iwaizumi turns to face him fully with an expectant look on his face.

“Huh?”

“I was wondering when your classes start.”

“Oh. Uhm…”

He glances around, spotting his schedule on the floor among a couple of other papers.

“What time is it?”

“Ten fifteen-ish,” Iwaizumi says, shoving another forkful of eggs into his mouth.

“Oh. Well, screw that then. Lecture’s already started.”

Iwaizumi looks up at him in alarm, but Oikawa just shrugs. “It’s fine. Wasn’t an important one anyway. I’ll… I’ll go again tomorrow.”

“You sure?" Iwaizumi is leaning over, trying to see what the schedule says. "What about the one after? Could you still make it?”

Oikawa frowns slightly. He considers lying, again, but decides against it.

“I guess," he says, shrugging.

Iwaizumi is watching him, a frown on his face as well.

“Are you going to your classes, Oikawa?”

The setter smiles. “Generally? Yes. I just…”

He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to acknowledge a possible end of this, whatever is happening right now.

“…as long as you’re here… I don't... I wanna spend as much time with you as I can.”

He smiles apologetically, setting down his plate.

"Why are you here, Iwa-chan? And... for how long?"


End file.
